


Arrival

by TheQueenofMirth



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Spoilers for Book 2: The Wicked King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 04:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21130646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenofMirth/pseuds/TheQueenofMirth
Summary: The High Queen appears dishevelled at the door of the great hall. Her courtiers don't like what they see, but what about the High King?





	Arrival

“Where have you been?” High King’s voice is a clap of thunder. It stops the music, silence the gossipy. The courtiers turn to look at the great hall entrance, hiding their smiles behind their elegant hand-fans and ringed fingers.

_ Simple. _

_ Wild. _

_ Look her hair. _

_ What happened to her dress? _

_ Messed up. _

_ Unrefined. _

_ A brute. _

_ Mortal. _

_ Dirty. _

_ Not a Queen. _

_ Not a Queen at all. _

_ The girl, that girl, that one, _ she is there. Straight back. Tense shoulders. One hand on the hilt of the sword. She doesn’t look like a Queen but as something one of them played with. She looks dirty and this time she smells as dirty too.

Dirty, sweat and blood._ It’s not hers. _

It’s faerie blood.

Their blood.

_ How does she dare to show up like that? _

_ And before the High King, not less. _

_ He will grow tired of her. _

_ He will see. _

_ She is not fit to be Queen. _

_ She is not- She _ shouldn’t _ be our Queen. _

The Court anticipates the girl’s answer with hunger. She gives none. She just stares the High King with her jaw clenched and severity in her eyes.

“Leave.” It’s not a word, it’s a command. They wait to see if she will obey him.

She doesn’t leave.

She doesn’t move.

_ Ungrateful. _

_ Intractable. _

_ Disrespect- _

“I said leave. Does any of you heard me?”

_ He could not. _

_ He certainly would not. _

_ He is doing. _

_ He is casting us out. _

They should know he would not argue with her before them. The two of them never do. No before the Court. _Never _before the Court. Half of the time it’s like they just ignore each other. The other half, it’s like they keep secrets between them.

The courtiers leave the great hall asking themselves _why her?_

When the courtiers leave, when the doors close, he is in his feet moving in her direction. Abrupt, fast.

Before that, she already walked half of the distance to the throne. Slowly, cautiously.

He finds her.

He finds her and then he is touching her, examining. Hips, back, arms, shoulders, neck, face.

She smells as dirty, sweat and blood.

_ Not hers. _

“Where have you been?” His voice is made of fury and helplessness. “Who did it to you?” She slides her hands on his back, pulling him closer. Holding him together.

She inspires deeply as if she wants to breathe him in.

“I’m fine.” She whispers. “I’m fine.”

* * *

This fic was inspired by the art of E.K. Belsher  
([http://www.ekbelsher.com](http://www.ekbelsher.com/))  
(<https://ekbelsher.tumblr.com/>)

* * *


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